Fate of Durin
by One of Durin
Summary: Standing on that chilly precipice, Thorin realises the fate of the line of Durin. BoFA death fic. Please review, any constructive criticism welcome!


They stood together in a pack, eyes wide open, alert, waiting for something to happen. Anything. A leaf falling nearby made them tense and hands reached for swords, then they smiled grimly at each other. In all of their journey, all of their experiences, they never thought it would end like this. Watching hundreds of their kin die at the hands of the orcs, fighting alongside men and elves to kill the filth, and then standing on this eerie precipice waiting for any sign of Azog.

Fíli shifted and looked around him tersely. Thorin knew how he was feeling, like he should be doing anything but just standing there, doing nothing. It was not in their blood to stand idly by while others fought for them. He glanced about him and decided enough was enough.

"Fíli, take your brother and check in there. Be careful." He said, gesturing to a dark cliff face where a few caves were visible. Fíli nodded and he set off, Kíli in tow, swords drawn and ready for a fight. Thorin half smiled as he watched them go. They were becoming fine heirs, and he was proud to call them his kin. Dwalin caught his smile, and grinned himself. Everyone loved the mischievous pair, who could lighten any situation yet could be relied on completely in a fight.

Thorin and Dwalin began to search around the other side of the precipice. A sudden movement made them jump and they turned round to find Bilbo had managed yet again to sneak up unnoticed. He was panting heavily and could hardly get the words out, yet eventually managed to calm down enough to speak.

"They're coming from the north, Thorin, legions of them, you have to leave now!"

Thorin barely had time to comprehend what he had said before the first orc leaped over the wall. He drew out his sword and with a tremendous clash of metal on metal, yet another battle begun. They fought off the orcs, side by side, until eventually during a pause in the onslaught a horrific sight caught his eye. The caves were filling up with light, and a terrible noise was coming to his ears. A horrible sinking feeling was becoming heavier in his chest.

In all this journey, all of the battles, the close encounters, he had never really entertained the idea that it could come to this. Throughout everything the line of Durin had held strong, and he was confident that they could reclaim the treasure and rule their kingdom once again. All thought of gold and dragons and kingdoms and mountains faded away and just one thought was racing through his mind, consuming his consciousness and giving him a pain that he had never experienced so badly before. _Fíli and Kíli. Please, no, please let them have escaped…_

He had scarcely made twelve steps towards the caves when he saw what he most feared. Azog stepped into view, holding Fíli by his collar. Thorin looked into the deep blue eyes of his eldest nephew and felt as though someone had just put an icy spike through his heart. Azog spoke some loathsome warning but he could scarcely understand a word. All he could see was his nephew dangling there, completely helpless and knowing that there was no hope. He was barely breathing, all he could do was look at his nephew, see the fear in his eyes, and pray for a miracle.

There was no miracle to be had. With a yell, Azog thrust his sword into Fíli's back. Thorin almost fell to his knees, he could not look away. Those bright mischievous eyes locked on his, he saw the pain and the agony and then there was nothing. Azog dropped him and he landed in a heap on the ground. Thorin felt as though the ground had gave way beneath his feet. There was an agonized cry and his younger nephew darted out of his hiding place. He was running for Azog, half mad with grief and desperate for revenge. Thorin started towards his nephew but even as he did he knew it was over. He could not stop himself from looking at the fallen body on the way past, and wishing it had not come to this. He drew his sword and ran. For Fíli. For his kin.

For revenge.


End file.
